Blue Masquerade
by Black Zora
Summary: In Santa Carla, things and people are not as they seem, as runaway boy Robin finds out on a cold, rainy night ... Slash, but nothing too graphic and not the main focus of the story.


**Blue Masquerade**

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_AN: This story can be read as a follow-up to my story "The Darkness Within", but also as a standalone piece.  
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_Warning: Immoral vampires ahead - sex (slash), blood, drugs, and rock'n roll._

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The rain was falling heavily, dissolving the lights of the Boardwalk into blurry, multicolored dots, joining in with the waves and muffling all other sounds.

Under the pier, Robin buried deeper into his clammy sleeping bag. He was shivering, not only because of the cold, but from general exhaustion. He hadn't eaten in two days, and this day, he hadn't even managed to drink properly. His head was aching, and his stomach was growling as an angry animal. He felt like crying. He knew no one here, he had only arrived four days ago, and things didn't look too bright for him.

But he couldn't go back home. No. Never.

As he stared out into the dark, listening to the rain, he thought of the fights, the screaming, the drinking, and how his father had finally left for good – and for a girl that was barely legal, only a few years older than Robin himself. After that, his mother had drank even heavier, and, one night, she had told Robin flat out that it was his fault alone that she had even stayed with his father for so long. Now that he was gone, she had said, she wanted her life back, and her idea of life did not include playing mother hen for an ungrateful teenager. When he had tried to talk back, she had thrown a couple of plates at him, which had smashed on the tilings of the kitchen with a rather final sound.

That night, Robin had packed his things and left. He was only seventeen, but he looked older, and he had managed to hitchhike the more than thousand miles to California without any questions raised. Yet now that he was here, he didn't see how he could go on. He had only wanted to leave home, to put a good distance between himself and his parents, and California had sounded so bright and promising in his mind. But on his very first day in Santa Carla, his wallet had been stolen, and with it nearly all of his money. With only five bucks left, he had tried and asked for a job, but there didn't seem to be anything legal other than cleaning up on the beach, and the manager wanted to see some sort of ID for that because he wasn't keen on getting into trouble for exploiting minors.

So Robin had ended up under the pier with his sleeping bag and his backpack, not a penny to his name, cold, wet, starving and thirsting. He did have a right to cry, didn't he?

"Brrr!"

Robin nearly had a heart attack as a dark shape slipped out of the rain and under the pier mere feet away from him. Instantly he thought of being robbed, raped, killed, but then he heard the click of a lighter and a small flame ignited. It showed him the face of a young man who was just lighting a doobie. His features were framed by long blond hair that was dripping water, and they spoke of a good-humored person, someone of the crazy older brother type you could mostly trust. He seemed to almost radiate calming vibes. Maybe it was the smoke of the weed. Whatever the case, Robin felt himself relax.

The guy looked up, the lighter still burning, and smiled at him. "My guts told me someone was here already. Ya want some?" He leaned down and held his joint out to Robin.

"Yeah," Robin answered, quite grateful for the offer. "Thanks." He sat up, took the doobie and inhaled deeply. The smoke coated his lungs, the drug seeping slowly into his system. He felt even more relaxed as he handed the joint back.

"Bad night to be staying out here, huh?" the guy asked, or rather stated. "The name's Paul, by the way."

"Robin. – Yeah, I'd rather be elsewhere, but …" he faltered.

"Y'a runaway, kid?"

Robin nodded.

"No money, no friends?"

He nodded again.

"Where ya from?"

"Small town in Wyoming."

"Dontcha think yer parents will look for ya? Inform the police? How long have ya been gone?"

Robin hesitated. "Na, I don't think so," he finally answered. As he said it, he realized that it was probably true. His father had shown hardly any interest in him since he had left two years ago, and his mum … well, she had practically told him to piss off and leave her alone. Suddenly, he felt even colder than before. The good the joint had done had evaporated like the smoke Paul blew out of his mouth. "Na, they won't look for me," he stated, feeling more alone and forlorn than ever. As an afterthought, he added: "It's been a week already."

Paul nodded somewhat gravely. The flame of the lighter died in his hand.

Suddenly, there were three other dark shapes under the pier. Robin hadn't noticed them approaching and was rather alarmed.

"Found someone, Paul?" a deep, smooth voice inquired.

Robin realized that these guys must somehow belong to the one he had shared the joint with. Still, he was on edge. Meeting one stranger and having a friendly chat with him was one thing. Being surrounded by a gang of four was quite a different story.

"Yeah," Paul replied. "'nother runaway kid."

"Huh. We were just 'bout to call it a night," the guy with the smooth voice stated. "Abysmal weather. – Need a place to stay, kid? You wouldn't be the first stray we take with us."

Robin pondered the offer for a moment. Could he trust these guys? He hadn't even seen their faces.

As if on cue, the speaker clicked a lighter to life and lit himself a cigarette. He then let the flame burn and turned his eyes on Robin. His expression was neutral, neither particularly friendly nor threatening. In the warm light, he looked quite young, no older than eighteen or nineteen. Still, there was an air of authority surrounding him. He was clearly the leader of the group. As he held the flame higher and at arm's length, Robin got a quick impression of the other two. One seemed to be at least part Native American. He was very good-looking, almost model-like, and despite of the cold weather wore no shirt under his open leather jacket. The most outstanding thing about the other was his colorful clothing. Even his boots were multi-colored, and his jacket was a patchwork of different fabrics and badges. Both were smiling at him rather invitingly, if with a slightly mocking undertone.

"Well?" the leader prompted. "We live a little off town, and off the grid, so to speak, but it's warm and dry and there's food and drink. Wanna come? We don't bite."

They all snickered as if at an inside joke.

Well, what options did he have? Right now, the offer of a warm, dry place to stay, with food, drink and maybe even dope sounded like heaven.

"Yeah," Robin said. "I'll go with you. Thanks a lot. Uh … I'm Robin, by the way."

The leader nodded. "David," he said.

"I'm Marko," the one with the colorful clothes introduced himself.

"Dwayne," said the other.

They waited patiently while Robin rolled up his sleeping back and gathered up his things.

"Our bikes are parked at the entrance to the pier," David declared. "From there, it's a fifteen minute drive. I fear you'll get a little wet on the way. But I'm sure we can find you some dry clothes at our place."

Once they stepped out from under the pier, they all fell into a run. Robin had some difficulty to keep up with them. Seeming to notice, they slowed down a bit. They climbed the steps to the pier in a rush, the rain beating down on them mercilessly. A little further away, four bikes were parked in a row. Robin didn't know much about bikes, but even he could see that these were a-grade machines, equipped with off-road gear and customized for their owners.

Paul gestured him over to his. "Ever been on the back of a bike?" he asked.

Robin shook his head.

"There's really only two rules," Paul explained as he mounted his machine. "The first's to follow the rider's motions, especially in bends. Never lean against a bend, or you'll be in serious trouble. – Put your foot here and grab my shoulder for leverage to hop on. Yeah, that's right," he commended as Robin followed his instructions and got on behind him, if a bit clumsily. "Second rule: hang on tight, for we go fast." He grabbed Robin's hands and put them on his waist. "Don't worry if you bump into me when I brake, you won't dislodge me. And now," he shouted over the revving of the engine, "have fun!"

With that, the bike lurched forwards among the other three, and they raced out into the night.

At first, Robin was pretty anxious. They were indeed going fast, and their driving seemed pretty risky to him. From the road they turned down to the deserted beach, then up on a road again, then into a forest, on small, overgrown paths, and out onto the cliffs where the beacon of the lighthouse cut through the threads of rain like a knife. However, during the drive he gradually relaxed, and when they finally halted on top of a cliff, even though soaking wet and chilled to the bone, he was almost disappointed that the ride was over.

The gang hid their bikes in an extensive shrubbery, taking care that they were not visible from the pathway on the cliffs. Robin wondered where they lived. The place was totally deserted, not a building in sight. But then again, it might just be the curtain of rain that hid the house from his eyes.

"Come on down!" Marko called out to him as he jogged past Robin. "It won't get any drier here!" Marko and the others made for the edge of the cliff. Following them, Robin saw that there were wooden stairs leading down to the roaring sea. They seemed quite dilapidated.

Paul grabbed his arm. "Watch out!" he warned. "The steps are not safe for strangers, especially not in this weather." He carefully guided Robin down to the rocky beach below. Then on they went, past a cut fence that sported several warning signs and into the mouth of a cave. Again, Paul had to guide him over the slippery rocks at the entrance. The others had already gone ahead. Robin wondered how on earth they could find their way in the dark. It was pitch black.

Suddenly, a warm orange glow bloomed from the darkness in front of them. Someone had lit a torch. Then more fires appeared, and Robin could make out Marko and Dwayne who were igniting several oil barrels filled with driftwood. Due to the salt, some of the fires were burning blue and green. In the eerie light, Robin could barely make out the walls of the cave. The place was huge and filled with an assortment of stuff that could either be judged junk or treasure, depending on one's view on things. Personally, he thought it drop dead gorgeous.

"Wait here," David told him, and for a few minutes, all of them vanished into another cavern. When they reemerged, they had dry clothes on which looked less like rocker or biker attire and more like the comfy stuff one would wear at home. Paul presented Robin with a pile of clothing, complete with boxers, socks and sneakers. A little bashful, he went behind a pillar to change out of his wet stuff. When he had finished redressing, he wore blue jeans that were slightly too long, a dark red hoodie and well-used converse sneakers two sizes too big for him.

He looked around for the others. In one corner of the cave stood on old canopy covered in scruffy draperies. Dwayne was standing next to it, bending down and picking something up. With a jolt, Robin realized that it was a small child, a boy of maybe five or six years of age. Was he Dwayne's little brother, or maybe even his son? Dwayne seemed to be older than the others, though it was difficult to say. He might be in his early or even mid-twenties, and the child looked to be of Native or Hispanic descent, with lush black hair and dark eyes.

"That's little Benito, over there," David commented. "Dwayne found him on the streets a few weeks ago. His parents were druggies."

"If you're wondering about foster care and legal stuff and such," Marko joined in from a few feet away, "I've been living in a children's home myself years and years ago and made a run for it pretty fast. Trust me, he's far better off with us." While he spoke, he was rummaging through an old chest of drawers. Finally, he pulled out a bag. Making cooing noises, he threw something on the ground. Almost instantly, he was surrounded by a flock of pigeons. One of them even landed on his shoulders.

David chuckled at Robin's expression of surprise. "Dwayne finds the children, Marko the animals. I pick up lost girls, and Paul – well, Paul picks up lost boys."

Said Paul was sauntering over to them, arms full with bags of chips and packs of crackers, two or three bottles of coke and lemonade under each arm. "Have a seat, Robin," he said and put all the stuff on a low table that was covered in dust and candlewax, then plopped down on an old couch and put his feet up. "And help yaself."

Dwayne came over as well, the sleepy little boy in his arms. He kicked a few large cushions that were strewn on the ground into a pile and took residence on top of them. Marko left his birds and sat down on the ledge of what looked like a dried up fountain with a large fallen-down chandelier in its center, helping himself to a bottle of coke. David pulled over an old wheelchair and made himself comfy. They all were looking at Robin expectantly.

Paul made an inviting gesture, taking his feet off of the armrest and putting them on the table instead. Hesitantly, Robin sat down next to him. Instantly, Paul shoved a bottle of coke and a bag of chips into his hands.

"Come on now, we took ya with as to feed ya up!" He laughed, but there was something strange in his eyes.

Robin dismissed it in favor of coke and chips. First he drank, and it tasted heavenly, better than anything he ever had had. Then he ripped the bag open and began to stuff himself with chips. The others looked on approvingly. Dwayne had opened a pack of sesame crackers and was feeding little Benito. Some of the pigeons were lingering in close vicinity, and Marko crushed a few crackers and threw the crumbs to them, which resulted in more pigeons touching down, cadging for food. There were bird droppings everywhere, but that didn't seem to bother the others.

Then a big fat rat appeared from under the couch, hobbled over to Marko and actually started to climb his pant leg from the inside. Robin stared at it, both fascinated and slightly repulsed. But Marko simply laughed, reached inside his bell-bottom jeans and pulled the rodent out again, apparently without being bitten. He placed the rat on his lap and presented it with a cracker, which it took neatly into its forepaws, nibbling away on it right then and there.

"Is it tame?" Robin asked, intrigued. "I mean, a pet rat?"

Marko grinned at him. "Well, as you can see, he's obviously tame, at least with me, so I guess you could call him a pet rat. But no, he was not bred to serve as a plaything for humans. He's born wild."

"Marko has quite the knack for animals," David said, smiling. "He brings in all sorts of them. Some of them wander off after a while, others stay. We even had an alligator once."

Paul chuckled. "Yeah, and we're almost complete at the moment. As David told ya earlier, it's usually us, then Marko's assortment of wild pets, a child Dwayne picked up from out of the gutter, a girl David found on the beach, and a runaway boy I bumped into on the Boardwalk or under the pier. So we're only a girl short tonight."

Marko joined in his snickering, while David and Dwayne simply smiled.

"So …" Robin inquired. "You take in people regularly? Like, runaway kids and such?"

David nodded. "Yeah. Otherwise it would be a little boring … The same faces for ages, you know."

Robin snorted. "Man, you talk as if you were an old geezer. How old are you guys anyway? You can't be older than twenty now, can you?"

David just smiled at him.

"So what happened to all the other kids that stayed with you?"

David's smile turned into a smirk. "They moved on."

All of them laughed, leaving Robin a little perplexed as to where the joke was.

Paul touched his arm in a companionable way. "We get bored easily, ya know. So we take them in for a while – a night or a few, a week at tops – and then, sadly, they have to move on. With us, that's like the natural course of things. People come, people go …" He grinned at Robin. "But as of yet, no one complained. We make sure everyone has a good time while staying with us."

Robin looked over at little Benito, who was sitting on Dwayne's lap and munching happily on his crackers. "But what about the children you pick up? You surely don't throw them out on the streets again … or do you?"

"Na," Marko replied, shaking his head. "That would be cruel. The children we keep longer, for weeks, sometimes months. It's like … you know, making good for the things their families fucked up."

"We can't look after them forever," Dwayne complemented. "But if they have been with us for a while, enjoying their lives for once, their transition to that … other plane of existence goes much smoother."

Other plane of existence? That was surely an odd term for a children's home or a foster family. But, hang on, hadn't Marko told him earlier that they were opposed to that kind of institutions? Then where exactly did the children move on to?

Meanwhile, Marko had stood up and fetched a boom box he now placed on the edge of the fountain. "We've no reception in here, obviously," he said, "but we've got a vast collection of tapes – if we can find them, that is. Suggestions, anyone? I'm all for some fifties rock – Bill Haley or Elvis or" –

"Duran Duran," Paul answered immediately.

"Duke Elington," Dwayne said.

David leaned forward in his wheelchair. "Why not some opera for a change? What about Caruso?" he proposed.

'Man, these guys' musical taste _is _diverse,' Robin thought, bewildered.

Finally, they agreed upon Bill Haley, but then neither Marko nor Paul were able to find the tape – neither David nor Dwayne showed any inclination in helping them search –, so they somehow ended up with Jefferson Airplane instead. Paul then announced that White Rabbit practically called for some acid, and proceeded to rummage through the cave until he found what he sought.

"Ever tasted Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, Robby darlin'?" he asked, his grin nearly splitting his face in two. He held a strip of colorfully printed paper between his thumb and index finger. Robin gazed at it in confusion. Paul laughed. "These are tickets. You take one and suck on it." He ripped one off and held it out to Robin.

Robin hesitated. He wasn't too sure about this.

"You needn't be scared," Marko spoke up reassuringly. "We'll look after you while you're taking your first trip to wonderland. We're pretty resilient to the stuff. We'll be lucid enough to take care of you."

Robin gulped. Should he really …? Eventually, he took the piece of colorful paper from Paul. For maybe half a minute, he just stared at it. Then Paul tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He held a piece of the paper between his fingers, stuck his tongue out and planted the paper on its tip. Slowly, he drew his tongue back and made a sucking motion. "Like this," he said, smirking, then stuck out his tongue again to lick his lips in a way that seemed slightly seductive to Robin.

He looked around himself. The others were watching him. Marko stuck his tongue out as well to show him the paper glued to it. David and Dwayne kept their neutral stance, not indicating whether they had imbibed the drug or not.

All right, then … Robin opened his mouth and stuck the ticket on his tongue. The others applauded and cat-called. Someone laughed.

The stuff tasted like … well, like paper. For a few minutes, nothing happened, and Robin thought that they were maybe just pulling his leg, feeding him with nothing but printed paper.

Then the effect kicked in. His surroundings seemed to be dissolving, then re-formed and appeared before him much more substantial and somehow more … _dimensional_ then before. They kept moving though, dancing before his eyes, and some colors sprung to the forefront … First, everything was mostly blue, then it turned to green, yellow, orange, red … and stayed there.

In the background, White Rabbit seemed to be on a loop, and single words and phrases sprang out and at him.

… _small … small … SMALL … won't do anything at all … at all … all … you're going to fall … fall … FALL … small … small … small … SLOPPY DEAD … OFF WITH YOUR HEAD … feed … FEED … _

Someone was touching his leg. He looked down, and it seemed to be Paul, only that it wasn't. His face had changed, it had become angular and elongated, with two glowing coals for eyes and shining razors for teeth … His laugh was Paul's laugh though, good-natured, highly amused and inviting, and so Robin laughed along with the monster that was lying in his lap, literally laughing his head off until it seemed to detach from his body and drift upwards … Or was it Paul's head?

There was Dwayne in front of a red fire that changed into a fountain of red. Did the red erupt from little Benito's neck? Dwayne seemed to be dancing with the child in his arms.

Marko was surrounded by shining white doves whose feathers were sprinkled with little red droplets. His honey-colored curls had changed to molten gold-red lava that was running over his shoulders and dripping onto the floor. He bent down towards David, who became engulfed in the stream of gold. As he looked up and his eyes met with Robin's, they were of the same color as Marko's hair. When he smiled, his mouth turned into that of a shark, with rows upon rows of shining white fangs.

Distracted by a touch, Robin looked down at Paul again, who had his hands under Robin's hoodie, stroking his skin that felt hot as fire with hands that were as if made of ice or marble. The garment was as red as the fountain Robin had seen next to Dwayne earlier. He looked up again, his eyes searching for Dwayne, but he was nowhere to be found. The same held true for little Benito.

Marko came over and knelt before him, laying his hands on Robin's thighs. "You okay?" he asked, smiling up at Robin with glowing eyes and a mouth full of razorsharp teeth.

At first, Robin could only blink in reply. His tongue seemed too heavy to speak. "S'ppose so," he finally managed. "Y' look odd," he added as an afterthought.

Marko sniggered. "Yeah, you're tripping. Let me make this even better for you." His hands wandered under Robin's waistband. Then he opened the zipper and pulled his jeans down, petting him through the thin fabric of his boxers. Paul bent over and he and Maro kissed while Robin watched them with dazed eyes. As the two of them separated again, there was a thin thread of red dripping from the corner of Paul's mouth, and Marko's lips seemed redder than before too.

"Ya like it here, Robby?" Paul whispered, leering up at him.

Robin nodded with a heavy head.

"Y'all comfy an' watered an' fed? Ya happy?"

Again, Robin nodded. "Yeah," he croaked.

"That's good. Ain't that good, brothers?"

In answer, laughter erupted all around Robin. It seemed friendly though, not aggressive or mocking, so he laughed along once again. Suddenly, Dwayne was back, his mouth smeared with red, and without preamble, he bent over Robin and kissed him. He tasted of smoke and copper pennies, and Robin cut his tongue on his pointy teeth. Then David was there, nuzzling his neck, and then there was pain, blooming hot and red where David kissed and sucked on his neck. Robin hissed, but the pain turned into pleasure as either Marko or Paul occupied himself between Robin's legs. More pain as something stabbed him in the inside of his right thigh. The pain was red and therefore mingled nicely with the similar colored light all around him. It appeared to dissolve into this red light until Robin was no longer bothered by it.

The tape seemed to have jammed, there were screechy, yet somehow muffled sounds in the background that appeared to be fading. By and by, the light went out too, leaving a warm, wet darkness that was filled with little stabs of barely registered pain and sucking, slurping noises. There were hands all over him, touching and groping, some gentle, some not so much.

Still, Robin thought that he managed to come at least once between all that strangeness, and he was quite sure that someone muttered "Thank ya. That was real nice." into his ear before, finally, everything dissolved into nothingness and he knew no more.

...

**The end.**


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